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The Hollow Mask"Wear me." It says. You
look at the mask. It seams
harmless. A simple mask of black,
white, and red. A perfect mask for
a masquerade ball. "It won't hurt." It says as
you turn in around. You are greeted by a back
of pure darkness. As you bring it towards your
face your nose is filled with the stench of death
and decay. The mask itself begins to change.
It smiles. A smile of nightmarish proportions.
Its teeth begin to elongate into fangs. The ribbons
at either side of it wrap around the back of your
head. As your face makes contact with the back of the
mask its eyes begin to glow crimson and you no longer
feel it. In fact you no longer feel anything. For the mask
has now become a part of you. It is you.
Of Hunt and Change : 6THE RESCUES
The special forces broke through the fake hive walls and reached the lower area of the hive. They found lots of normal concrete rooms deep inside the hive, none of the room has doors or windows of any sort. Though most of them are relatively clean, compared to the rest of the place. They have a normal bed with a cardboard or a bookcase, sometimes with connected toilet. There are even ten rooms with, surprisingly, working computers completed with Wi-Fi network. They also rescued a dozen captives which were immediately be quarantined, scanned, and interrogated. All of them found clean of alien substances of any kind.
It had been confirmed that the computers were the ones that they had used to call for help. All of the survivors confirmed none of the aliens had harmed them in anyway, other than kept them captive. They were well fed, allowed the use of proper bathrooms and toilets, as well as random entertainments. The entertainments were varied. Some go
Of Hunt and Change : 5THE ASSAULTS
It is now time for a hunt. Eggs have been laid within the new hives queen chamber. Within each eggs contain not face-hugger, but the royal substance that allow transformation to xenomorph. It has no effect on the xenomorph but highly effective on other species DNA and cells.
Well, that was what the Praetorian had told me before I go out on a hunt for the first time. So we drink our fill of the royal substance from the eggs, keep it within the purse in our body which use to store hive resin we drones produce.
Our targets today will be poor, homeless, or drunken humans in the town preferably those that wont be missed should they disappeared. And so we decide to watch around the pubs and bars late after midnight. Me and Sarah are crouching on the rooftop of a bar as two drunk males stumble out, barely able to stand from the way they walk.
Along the rooftops, we follow.
They stumble along the street and turn do
Of Hunt and Change : 3THE REBIRTH
I can feel her mind reach out and hold onto me. I return the quick embrace with my mind and encourage her to get out. I can see movement under the cocoon as her inner jaw strikes at the hard cover. Its not easily break, but eventually a tear appear. She wiggles around inside the semi-translucent shell until her new claws poke out and start tearing the cocoon apart. Revealing her new sleek black chitin armored body. I watch her wicked boney tail as she seem to take upon herself to destroy the remaining of her ex-prison. Her back tubes are perfectly lined, she has smooth dome head and a deadly inner jaw. Her jaw dripping saliva as she growl lightly at me
Hello again, Sarah, I greeted her happily, reaching her with my mind. But she push it aside and suddenly jump at me and pin me on the ground with her claws and tail. Snarl at me with her jaws inches from my face.
Wha ? Sarah?!
Of Hunt and Change : 1THE HUNT
I am over-excited. This will be the first time I get to join a Hunt! I've been waiting for days for this opportunity. And it is a human target at that! They would not normally send a newly converted like me on a human Hunt since it is much more dangerous than simple animal targets. But I got luck out it seem!
The Hive has been watching this area for a while now. The human houses are far in-between, all surrounded by trees, with little to no road traffic. It is a bit far from the Hive, but not too far to operate. Mother wish us to clear out this area of human inhabitants. Eat them, or bring them back if possible. It need to be done before her plan could progress, she said. She won't tell us what the plan was when we asked, but we trust her all the same. She's the Mother and the Empress after all, she know better than us mere drones.
And so here I am, in the brush outside a lonely house on the mountain, watching the target patiently. The female creature s
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
may as well buy another packcollapse, and breathe into the carpet:
sunday mornings are not
for falling apart, but damn
the amphorics, this
is not an atmosphere.
you fell in love like you always
wish you didn't, made all their
smiles replaceable, interchangeable,
fell asleep with shadows and kept
drinking, just letting yourself sleep
with blue pills
and tried not to scream.
(keep this image in your head:
fire and nectarines, a sudden jerk
of realization, inspiration
breaking your neck and leaving you forever
breaking bones is not so different
from breaking hearts - it's all about
the leverage, the angle, the mode
(and at least it wasn't personal;
it can color in your own guilt
for starting lines and never ending
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